


red, warmth

by moonravn



Series: dyed in red [1]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampires, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonravn/pseuds/moonravn
Summary: It stopped mattering long ago—stopped mattering if the blood tasted nice, if it was the right kind, if it’d be something Dongju would like or not—it stopped mattering. All that mattered now was that it was some blood—something warm that Hwanwoong could take back for Dongju, bloody fingertips careful as they slipped against his fangs, poking at his face until Dongju was semi-conscious and licking at Hwanwoong’s skin until he could properly wake up.(Hwanwoong would never leave him—not now, not ever—not even if things fell apart again, he wouldn’t—he won’t.)
Relationships: Son Dongju | Xion/Yeo Hwanwoong
Series: dyed in red [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891399
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40





	red, warmth

**Author's Note:**

> not v sure how to tag this > there is mention/vague descritpion of dead animals/hunting and a lot of non vague descriptions of, well, blood. and pain.

Hwanwoong’s steps echo off the castle walls, sound bouncing off cobwebs and years of dust before hitting Hwanwoong’s ears again—l oud and yet soothing in the quiet, abandoned hallways.

It’s been years since anyone but him walked around the castle—years since anyone but Hwanwoong watered and tended to the flowers—little white buds that flourished under the sun, and yet Hwanwoong could only look at them at night, could only see them under faint moonlight—fingertips as white as them and reflecting off pale, _pale_ light.

It’s been years—years only with Dongju, but Dongju never left his room—never went outside and never looked at the flowers—never looked at anything that wasn’t Hwanwoong.

It’s not that Dongju didn’t want to, Hwanwoong knew—knew that, even if Dongju was lazy and unwilling to move at all times, even _he_ wouldn’t just lock himself up for hundreds of years, refusing to breathe or see anything that wasn’t his bed—a desk—Hwanwoong.

It’s not that Dongju didn’t want to, it’s that he couldn’t—he still can’t, really—

He can’t leave—is too tired, too weak to move anywhere—struggles to stand up and eat when Hwanwoong feeds him anything—

It hurts to see, hurts to know he can’t do anything—can only kiss him until he drifts off once again, stuck in that semi-conscious state where he spends most of his time lately, hands clinging to the bedsheets and Hwanwoong’s sleeve—begging him to not leave.

Hwanwoong never leaves—not until Dongju’s properly asleep, grip loosening and face in a relaxed but sort of pained expression, as beautiful as it is heart-wrenching. Hwanwoong only leaves then, places a soft kiss to Dongju’s forehead and to his cheeks—nuzzles against him until the feel of his skin against Hwanwoong’s is burnt and clear even when Hwanwoong moves away, walks and leaves the room with quiet, _quiet_ steps against worn-out carpet and marble flooring.

Sometimes, Hwanwoong only leaves to walk around the castle—to marvel at overgrown vegetation that’s overtaken unused rooms that once held glory and riches that awoke envy in everyone’s eyes.

Other times, Hwanwoong leaves Dongju to tend to the flowers—rusted little old watering can filled with dirty water heavy as he carries it across forgotten hallways—droplets spilling out and adding to the quiet _step step step_ with on and off little _drip drops_ that stain and clean away years of dirt—only to pool on nothing and merge once again with dust.

And then there’s times when he ventures outside, steps past overgrown vines—past the broken up plaza and fountain by the castle entrance—past trees that cover them up and past the weak, _weak_ magic shield Hwanwoong had managed to surround the old castle with—just in case, just to keep the both of them safe.

Times when he ventures out into the mountains—trees and dirt on his way, steps a little louder and less refined—less echo against fallen branches and foliage.

Those times, his eyes are careful as they watch—wait for an unsuspecting little bird, maybe some poor feral animal that got lost in the mountains, maybe a common dweller of the mountains, a lost deer that fell behind—

Anything, whatever Hwanwoong can get—it stopped mattering long ago—stopped mattering if the blood tasted nice, if it was the right kind, if it’d be something Dongju would like or not—it stopped mattering. All that mattered now was that it was _some_ blood—something warm that Hwanwoong could take back for Dongju, bloody fingertips careful as they slipped against his fangs, poking at his face until Dongju was semi-conscious and licking at Hwanwoong’s skin until he could properly wake up.

Today’s one of those times— Dongju’s been too weak to even stand up lately, so Hwanwoong knows he has to go out when the sun’s just about to set—knows he has to find something as quick as possible, avoid the remaining little rays of sunlight that burn his skin and leave him weak.

It’d be nice if he could hunt at night, but he’s weak, too, and he can’t really see well at night anymore—so he has to make due, burn his own skin a little bit so Dongju doesn’t starve, doesn’t shake and whimper in the pain of _hunger_ and immortality that plagues them both—has done so for countless, _countless_ years.

Winter’s falling over them, at the very least, so the sun’s a little weaker—sets earlier, though, which makes Hwanwoong’s trips shorter—he needs to finish faster, hunt and get back inside before it’s dark and he gets lost—before it’s dark and before Dongju wakes up, eyes hazy and lost and wondering why Hwanwoong left him.

(Hwanwoong would never leave him—not now, not ever—not even if things fell apart again, he wouldn’t—he won’t.)

The outside’s just like he remembers, nothing new, nothing noteworthy— finding a prey is easy, and Hwanwoong uses the last of his strength and a little more to hunt it down as quickly as he can, limbs and lungs aching as he drags himself back home. He catches a bird today, immobilizes it enough, carries it injured back to the castle—he’s thankful it’s fairly peaceful, sun already leaving over the horizon, ghost of the night rising and soothing burns and wounds on Hwanwoong’s skin.

He walks past the plaza—past the fountain and past the familiar vines—feels the bird’s wings flutter and struggle—walks faster around empty corridors, echoing loud and painful against his ears and up spiral steps that went up, up, _up_ —

Castles were always so unnecessarily complicated—so ostentatious in every way—

It helped to keep them away from harm’s way, at least, no creature wanting to bother figuring out the maze of corridors and staircases—not even willing to come in through broken stained-glass windows, everything too dead and abandoned to harbour any life that wasn’t ever increasing flora.

A blessing in that way, but a curse in any other—a curse when Hwanwoong’s weak and yet has to drag himself up and through paths he knows like the back of his hand just to reach Dongju.

Everything hurts—burns with every movement, eyes fuzzy even under moonlight that should soothe him—he trips and falls, over and over again, gets up and leans on dirty walls as he makes his way to the bedroom he’s so used to sharing with the one he loves.

It always hurts like this—when he hasn’t taken from Dongju in too long, when years of hunger and weakness not soothed and taken away by royal blood come rushing back, bring him pain akin to dying over and over again—

He knows he shouldn’t let it get like this, knows he should take more, should drink more from Dongju—should let himself be a little more greedy, even if it hurts Dongju a little bit, because it’s for the best in the end, but—

Even though he knows, he can’t bring himself to be weak—can’t bring himself to speak up, say what he needs—can’t find it in himself to let Dongju know when it starts to hurt— not until he’s collapsing again and Dongju’s insisting, voice worried and about to cry—is dragging him down by the nape of his neck and forcing Hwanwoong’s fangs into his skin—

Maybe—just maybe, that’s part of Hwanwoong’s selfishness, in a way, wanting to feel Dongju’s need for him—wanting to feel Dongju’s hands forceful against him, voice kind as he whispers out words of scolding with no edge—wanting to feel the rush of Dongju against his taste buds like that, held down and at the other’s mercy—more than a little desperate.

Maybe it’s a lot of things—living beings are complicated like that, he’s learnt that over the years.

He reaches the door, still closed—just like he left it. He breathes in—air stagnant and heavy in his lungs—drags himself against the wall and pushes the door open softly, lets it shut by something like inertia as he walks to the bed on unsteady feet.

Dongju’s still asleep, curled on his side, hands clutching the bedsheets weakly. Hwanwoong smiles, lets himself laugh a little as he drops next to the bed on his knees, forces his arms up over the mattress, places the bird there and just stops to _breathe_ —

The faint smell of blood from the animal’s injuries reaches him again, makes Hwanwoong hiss, push himself further up on his knees—

Temptation’s strong—temptation to take the prey for himself, let blood run down his throat and bring him back to life—but it’s no for him, never for him—

It’s for Dongju, and Hwanwoong won’t drink anything that’s for Dongju—has sworn to himself he will only drink from Dongju, everything else he catches or comes across given up to the other.

He breathes in, drives his hand into a deep injury and snaps—feels wings flutter against the bed before they still. He brings his hand back, coated in red as he drags it to Dongju’s lips—

He’s still asleep, face in a grimace and almost immobile—even with the smell of blood being so suffocating, even with Hwanwoong’s fingers parting his lips to slip in blood—

Hwanwoong feels heavy, feels himself tired and about to collapse and he wants nothing more than to hold onto Dongju and make the pain fade away—but he has to wait, like always, and it’s something he’s used to, even if it’s painful.

He pushes the bird closer to Dongju with one hand, pushes the other against Dongju’s tongue—until Dongju licks at him, regaining consciousness slowly, _slowly_ —

First, eyes half-open and dazed, one of his hands holds onto Hwanwoong’s against his lips—drags it closer to lick up every drop of red—

Then, Dongju jerks, eyes opening wide but still unseeing—senses alert to the smell that seems to overtake him—and then he moves, almost as if in autopilot, pushes Hwanwoong’s hands on his lips again to go for the bird, biting and eating messily while Hwanwoong watches—

Dongju’s always messy when he’s like this—dazed and desperate as he sucks and licks up everything he can, lips and hands a pretty red that he licks as well with little noises of pleasure and happiness.

Even in pain as he is, Hwanwoong loves watching Dongju eat—loves watching the way he wakes up and comes back to himself— the way his skin gains a little more colour, the way his voice comes back to life— noisy as he lets out little sighs and nonsense.

Even in pain as he is, Hwanwoong loves watching Dongju—loves the way his silver hair gets stained red—the way hazy grey eyes turn red and bright—the way little drops of drool and blood fall past his lips, down his chin and neck and Dongju doesn’t notice.

God—Hwanwoong loves Dongju so much.

Once Dongju’s done, like always, it takes a little more for him to fully wake up—to come down from whatever endorphin high he seemed to have gotten into—bedsheets pooling around his middle as he simply sits on the bed, eyes a little lost but searching in Hwanwoong’s direction.

It takes a little but, finally, he focuses on Hwanwoong—eyes going back to shiny grey as he gives him a little confused smile. Hwanwoong laughs, pushes himself up from where he was leaning on his arms over the edge of the mattress—now rests his elbows a little closer to Dongju, face resting against one of his hands.

“G’morning” Hwanwoong’s voice is hoarse—tired and pained, but he doesn’t mind, smiles at Dongju through the pain. Dongju’s smile turns into a slight frown as he pushes away the carcass left behind, brings a bloodstained hand to hold Hwanwoong’s wrist and wordlessly pull him up. Hwanwoong lets him, winces a little bit as he gets up on the bed properly, Dongju easily pulling him so they’re now sitting in front of each other, Dongju’s hands cupping Hwanwoong’s face carefully.

Hwanwoong nuzzles against him, eyes closed and body tense with pain—breathing unsteady and everything burning so, so fucking _bad_.

“Why’d you let it get this bad again?” Dongju sounds almost angry, but worried, more than anything—fingers caressing Hwanwoong’s skin lovingly. Hwanwoong shrugs, feels a stab of pain on his ribs and the back of his neck—little needles against his eyes and neck. He lets out a pained whine, brings his hands to grip the front of Dongju’s stained shirt.

“Didn’t—” He cuts himself off, tongue and words all too heavy and pain numbing everything. His grip on Dongju weakens—tightens again as Hwanwoong brings himself back, burning and stabbing at his limbs almost unbearable. “Wanna worry—” He cuts off again, stops talking—everything hurts too much, he’s too tired, he doesn’t want to talk, he wants Dongju—Dongju’s warmth—wants his fingers on his hair and soothing the pain and—

“Stupid” Dongju spits it out trying for angry again, but he mostly sounds like he’s about to cry. Hwanwoong whines, tries for a shrug again—stops when the pain brings a full-body shiver that almost makes him collapse. Dongju clicks his tongue, pushes the bedsheets away and pulls Hwanwoong closer, brings them both to lie down on the bed properly.

Hwanwoong whines, shivers again—Dongju shushes him, gives him a quick peck on the lips that Hwanwoong almost _clings_ to—moves away slightly and pushes Hwanwoong’s face against his neck. Dongju’s shirt is already ripped, buttons broken and lost somewhere to time—so Hwanwoong doesn’t really have to do much, only needs to part his lips enough for his fangs to reach Dongju’s skin.

Even that is painful—hurts and burns every nerve ending in his body—makes Hwanwoong’s eyes well up with tears and makes everything feel warm warm _warm warm—_

Lips parted enough, Dongju pushes Hwanwoong’s face against his neck forcefully, draws a shiver and another quiet cry of pain from Hwanwoong—a soundless wince from himself as Hwanwoong’s fangs break skin, draw blood that’s murky and gross to feel and taste—

Hwanwoong lets out a quiet noise, taste strong and gross and _good_ on his tongue—laps it up almost desperately, pain a forgotten fog at the back of his throat as he swallows, laps up dark _dark_ red blood he’s in love with. Dongju’s hand loses strength— now simply runs through Hwanwoong’s hair, kind, fingers playing with locks of pale and pretty purple hair.

Dongju’s blood tastes _good—_ not on Hwanwoong’s tongue as much as it does everywhere else—on the pain he feels on every little nerve, on the warmth against his fangs and lips—The taste itself is _bad,_ vampire blood not exactly being a delicacy, but it’s _Dongju—_ Dongju’s taste and blood that he’s giving to Hwanwoong so willingly and full of _love and—_

Hwanwoong swallows, moves away a second—feels Dongju’s hand push him back—he nibbles around the puncture wounds, draws more blood that he takes in eagerly, fog of pain dissipating— hands clinging to Dongju’s clothes. Hwanwoong’s noisy against Dongju’s skin, everything rushing to his head at once as he takes and takes and _takes and—_

He tries to pull away—tries to let go of Dongju and just stop _taking_ —but Dongju doesn’t let him, forceful as he pushes Hwanwoong back against his neck and Hwanwoong _keens_ , tries to push Dongju away from himself with weak hands.

“Just drink” Dongju pushes his head again, Hwanwoong’s lips against the wound and blood flowing and so _so good_ — “’m fine” His voice is soft, a little sleepy and mumbled and so _soothing_ —Hwanwoong whines, but nibbles around the wounds again even so, drives his teeth to break Dongju’s skin again when he feels the wounds have started to close up—careless as he bites and takes and _takes_ and feels his head go fuzzy and the pain become something that’s far far away.

Once it stops hurting—once Hwanwoong’s brain is simply fuzzy and happy and in love— he licks at the wounds, moves away slightly to kiss at Dongju’s neck—up and to his cheek, then back and almost to his chest—then back to his neck, a happy hum at the back of his throat as he nuzzles against the wounds—

Dongju laughs, hand on Hwanwoong’s hair back to soft caresses, other hand playing with the end of Hwanwoong’s shirt—pulling and turning in his fingers.

“Thank you” Hwanwoong blinks—moves away from Dongju’s neck to look up at him, eyes wide and confused. Dongju looks back at him, breaks away with a high-pitched laugh that makes Hwanwoong’s head turn and turn and _turn—_ “For taking care of me”

Hwanwoong’s lips turn to a little _oh—_ soundless before he smiles up at Dongju, bright and in love, brings a hand up to run it through Dongju’s hair, pulls him down to kiss him—mouth stained and messy and tasting like murky blood. Dongju kisses back, then pulls away in mock disgust.

Hwanwoong laughs, pecks Dongju’s cheek before going back to his neck—nuzzling again, a happy hum leaving his throat. Dongju sighs, pats at the back of Hwanwoong’s head—two light taps, and then he’s pushing him back in again.

“Go on” Whispered—soft as Dongju holds Hwanwoong closer. Hwanwoong smiles, kisses at Dongju’s neck once more, whispers a quiet _thank you_ before he bites again—

Except, this time, that’s all he does. He bites—lets his fangs sink into Dongju’s skin and just—

 _Stays_.

Dongju’s hands are cold but _warm—_ soothing as they run little circles against Hwanwoong’s skin, Dongju staying in silence as he simply lets Hwanwoong _stay—_ Lets Hwanwoong lie there, head fuzzy and happy and fangs warm warm _warm_ in Dongju’s skin and it feels so _good—_

There’s the ghost of metal—rusted and old and heavy on his tongue and burning to the back of his throat—but that’s good too, it’s Dongju’s taste and it’s good—relaxing and beautiful and—

Hwanwoong whines, muffled against Dongju’s skin, grips the front of his shirt a little tighter, lets his eyes close and his head slip slip _slip_ _away—_

Dongju laughs, quiet and breathy as he nuzzles against Hwanwoong’s hair the best he can, taps at and caresses his skin soft soft _soft—_

“Sleep well” A whisper against Hwanwoong’s hair—Hwanwoong replies with a noise, something like a mumble even with his teeth still on Dongju’s skin— gives him a little lick, too, and cuddles a little closer. Dongju hums, hand now firm and caring against the back of Hwanwoong’s neck, holding him in place as Hwanwoong drifts off. “Love you”


End file.
